


Coffee Date

by paperdream



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner Are Best Friends, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner Friendship, Manhandling, Napping, Non-Consensual Touching, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fic, jon-typical self loathing, mostly - Freeform, mostly comfort, set sometime in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdream/pseuds/paperdream
Summary: Jon and Daisy leave the Institute to try and have one (1) normal day
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107944
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	Coffee Date

**Author's Note:**

> written for an anon prompt on tumblr :)

Jon suspected that the other denizens of the coffee shop were looking at them whenever they thought they wouldn’t be caught. He didn’t Know- both because he was trying not to Know things generally, and because the Eye rarely gave him information so immediately applicable to his life- but he suspected that their overly stiff posture, entwined legs, and mutual dishevelment drew more than a few looks.

He wished, distantly, that they could just come here like normal friends, without being hypervigilant for any monster that might want to take a piece out of them. Although, it wasn’t as though they ever would have become friends, if they were normal.

Daisy kicked him with her mostly-free leg. “Stop thinking so loud, you’re giving me a headache.”

Jon glared at her over the rim of his cup in a way that definitely in no way resembled a pout. “I’m sorry, did you learn how to read minds when I wasn’t looking?”

She snorted. “I don’t need to, you make faces.”

He leaned forward indignantly. “I do not!”

“You do!” She followed with a performance of some of the alleged thinking faces, twisting her face into exaggerated parodies of pensive contemplation and pinched self-loathing. This only lasted long enough for her to look back to Jon and start laughing.

“What?” he protested, trying to fight down his smile.

“You look so sad!” she rubbed her foot against his calf. “I’m just teasing, you don’t have to look at me like I killed your puppy!”

“I-!” He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t remember the last time someone _teased_ him without an edge of actual meanness.

“Come on,” she redirected, “I want to move, lets have a walk around.”

She hauled him up, forcing him to shift his coffee to his left hand so that she could hold his right, pulling him close to her body and twining their arms. Jon shivered.

“Good?” Daisy asked, pulling him out of the shop. He nodded.

“Fine. Nice.” He ducked his head, “Don’t stop.”  He had never been a touchy person, but now that everyone avoided even bumping shoulders in the halls as much as possible he found himself desperate for it. Yet another thing he had denied himself for years, only to realize how much he was missing out on once it was irrevocably gone.  He could  _feel_ the satisfied grin on  Daisy’s face,  the slight loosening of her muscles as she relaxed into him as well .

He let Daisy  guide him around the city, taking slow sips of his coffee and not paying much attention to where they were going. Eventually, Daisy tossed her own empty cup and half-collapsed under a tree in a small park. 

“Are your legs okay? Do you want me to call a cab back to the Institute?” He settled himself next to her, taking his time to avoid staining his clothes or spilling his still half-full cup.

“Nah. Just a rest.” She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Besides, you need the sun.” Unspoken was that she needed it more than he did, after months in the lightless deep of the Buried.

Just as Jon was taking a sip of his coffee, the arm around his waist tightened and was joined by another, pulling him onto her lap. “Daisy!”  he half-laughed

She laughed in his ear, arms firmly locked around him. “It’s not my fault you’re so short and skinny! I could carry you around like a doll.” She probably could have, he reflected, at least before the coffin. She certainly had no problem tossing him around her car or Mike Crew’s grave. 

He focused aggressively on the current moment, trying not to let on the frisson of fear that had leaked into him at the memory. “I’m  _not_ a doll though.”

She snorted. “Didn’t Basira end up buying you mostly new clothes on the Institute card, after your coma? Our very own dress-up Archivist.” 

Something about the words reminded Jon of plastic hands grabbing and pulling, the proprietary look in Elias’ eye, the feeling of being puppeted toward a doorway. He squirmed. “Daisy, stop.”

She let go of him immediately, letting him roll onto the grass away from her. That was no good either, she had been holding him like an object  (wasn’t he an object, Leitner’s voice asked in his head,  _you belong to it too_ ) , but at least she was warm and human, better than the cold soil he was suddenly so aware of beneath his hands. He crawled back toward the source of comfort, curling into her side. 

“Jon! Jon!” He realized she must have been saying his name for a while, long enough for her voice to take on a frantic tone. He tucked his nose between her neck and shoulder, even though she was so skinny her collarbone protruded and pressed uncomfortably against his cheek.

“Can you breath e with me, Jon?” A tentative hand alighted on his back and, when he didn’t flinch away, started rubbing rhythmic circles there, in time with the slow rise and fall of Daisy’s chest beneath him.

As Jon began to come back to himself, he realized his face was wet, that tears were still dribbling down his cheeks and pooling on Daisy’s skin. He sat up, and her hand vanished instantly. “S-sorry.” He sniffled, trying to get his breathing and the tears under control, “I d-don’t know what came over me. Sorry.”

Daisy shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have manhandled you like that. Do you want to go back?”

“No.” His voice sounded clogged up and miserable. He was suddenly exhausted, and he missed the warmth of a body against his, even though he was still half on top of Daisy.  He didn’t want to go back to the dim damp of the tunnels, or the hazy fluorescents of the Archives, not when the sun felt so nice on his skin. Not really paying attention to his movements, he shifted until he was curled on the ground, most of his upper half in her lap with his face pressing into her stomach. It felt safe, his legs free and his eyes blocked with nothing to See.

Fingers worked their way cautiously into his hair. “Is this okay?” He hummed into Daisy’s stomach, letting his body go lax. It felt nice, to have her playing with his hair. Something he didn’t even know he wanted, more than he deserved.

He sat up when she shook his shoulder, disoriented for a moment until he realized he must have fallen asleep. He hadn’t slept deeply enough to dream, but he felt a bit better. 

“We should head back before it’s fully dark.” Daisy used the tree to pull herself up, joints cracking. He winced at the reminder of her still-weakened state.

“I… apologize-”

“Don’t bother.” She offered him a hand up,  eyebrows raised in a solicitous expression , but Jon scrabbled up on his own, not wanting to risk pulling her back down to the ground. “I should’ve known better. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t mean anything, if I hadn’t reacted like- like…”

She held a hand out to him, still letting him take the lead with physical contact. “How about it’s nobody’s fault? Just happens sometimes.”

He shrugged, still unhappy with his apology, but tucked himself back into her side. They made their way back to the Institute like that, Jon’s head resting on Daisy’s shoulder and her head tilted to rest on top of his, the tilted view and their closeness making their steps waver drunkenly a bit. If Daisy was serious about not being upset… Jon supposed it had been a nice day.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @inklingofadream and send me a prompt of your own :)


End file.
